She found herself sitting at a table in Candlehearth Hall, mentally planning for the next leg of her trip. The mage college of Winterhold; a place she had been dreaming of since a child and now as an adult she was making the pilgrimage. Being a Breton, it was natural for her to be drawn to the arcane arts, but there was more to it than that.
At the age of seven, her family's farm went up in flames and not only claimed her parents' lives, but also her sight. Wandering the streets of Whiterun, she became the towns resident orphan and was fortunate every now and then when the villagers took pity and gave her food. After three years of sleeping behind sheds and in the corners of the city walls, a mage came to the small trade city.
All the children gathered around him, including herself, cheering to see sparks and fire tricks. Of course she couldn't see any of the show, but she could listen to the sound of the crackling and the laughter. Towards the end of the performance, the mage handed out several exotic flowers to the girls and boar horns to the boys. She held the flower in her hands and smelled its sweet fragrance. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever smelled, next to fresh bread. With their new gifts in hand, the children dashed off pushing the unaware Breton girl to the ground. The flower was jostled from her grasp. Panicked at the loss, she began to crawl along the stone path, searching for the touch of soft petals.
"It's right there," the mage tried to direct her.
"Left or right sir?" she asked, sliding her hands over the smooth stones.
"Oh... you're blind," he finally noticed.
"Yes. I'm sorry to trouble you, but I don't want to lose my flower. Could you perhaps tell me what direction to go in?" she asked in the kindest tone.
"Here," he bent down and took her hand to place the flower in her child-size palm.
"Oh, thank you, sir."
"What's your name?" he asked, helping her to her feet.
"Sorcline, sir." She held the flower tight, but was careful not to crush the petals.
"Where do you live?"
"Nowhere, sir," she gazed forward, unsure how tall he was.
"Nowhere?" he repeated, confused. Perhaps he thought it child's play or a riddle.
"Well, sometimes I sleep in the far corner past the blacksmith. It's the easiest to find, since I can smell the smelter and it gives me direction."
"Wait. Am I to believe you sleep outside?" his voice filled with shock.
"Well, yes. My parents are gone you see. And this was the closest settlement to our farm. The guards brought me here, and here is where I've stayed." She gave a shrug to signal her coming to terms with the situation.
"And you use your nose to find your way around?" he asked, seeming intrigued by the habits of a blind ten year old.
"Well, yes. It's one of the few things I got left," she smiled. "I can smell the mead from the inn, and that tells me were the market is. There's all sorts of things to hear and smell, and people with their sight don't even notice them."
"Huh, you are quite the interesting girl. I know older folk who have lost their sight, and have no such optimism when it comes to their handicap."
"I don't call it a handicap, just unfortunate circumstance. By chance, sir, could you tell me what time of day it is?" Sorcline asked. She heard him shuffle, probably looking for the sun.
"I'd say around five in the afternoon, why?"
"This is when they usually throw out the old food from the inn kitchen. If I get there in time, I won't have to compete with the town drunkard. He's a pig as well as a lush. Thank you, sir, for a great show. And the flower. It smells beautiful," she then turned and followed her nose in the direction of the mead hall.
That night she curled up in her usual corner, with some meat wrapping paper. Luckily it was a warm night. During the winter, she would cuddle up next to the wall of the blacksmith shop near the ever burning forge. Closing her eyes, she folded her hands under her head with the flower stem trapped between her fingers.
The next morning, Sorcline was shaken awake and her paper was pulled away.
"Sorcline," a familiar voice greeted.
"Sir, did I do something wrong?" She recognized the voice as one of the city guards.
"No child, there's a man here to ask you something." Quickly she pushed herself up, flower still clasped in her hand. She dusted off her dress, unsure who to expect.
"Yes?" she asked.
"We met yesterday," he explained.
"Yes, the mage. Good morning, sir," she nodded.
"She's polite for a street rat, I'll give her that. I wish they were all that way, the little blites," the guard spoke.
"Yes, well..." the mage was slightly taken aback by the comment. She found it odd, since it was she the one the guard called a street rat. Perhaps the mage was unaccustomed to the dealings of guards. "Sorcline, I am here to ask you if you would like to come live with me? I have a manor only a short way from here. I have been looking for a pupil, actually, and I think you would do well at the task."
"Me, sir?" the girl gasped. "But, why?"
"You have the right attitude, and show real promise. Besides, I believe you would value it much more than most children, or adults for that matter."
"Of course, sir. I would be honored. But..." she faltered.
"But what?" the mage pressed.
"Won't my blindness be a problem?"
"Well, I may have a slight solution to that as well."
The mage, who she came to know as Danddal, showed Sorcline to her room at the manor. She silently counted the steps from the doorway until she bumped into the bed. Then traced her hand along the wall, and began to count the steps again till she found the wall opposite. The room was rather large.
"Do you like it?" the mage asked. His voice was young, but mature. She guessed him to be in his mid-thirties.
"Yes, sir." Running her hand along, her fingers caught on a large wooden object. She felt along its edges; it was a shelf. Exploring with her fingertips, she found leather and cloth bound spines. "Books!" she exclaimed.
"Yes. You seem rather excited," he observed. There was a smile in his voice.
"Oh yes, I rather love books. I can't read them, but the smell of the paper and the feel of the ink. And the sound they make when you turn the pages. Books are magic all on their own." Sorcline grinned as she traced the spines feeling their etched letters. The mage gave a chuckle.
"Now I think it's time I hold up to my promise," Danddal joined her at the book shelf. He placed his hands on the sides of her shoulders to guide her out of the room and down a hallway. "This is the way to my laboratory. Now, I ask that you don't touch anything. There are some glass items and dangerous objects."
"I understand," she tried to memorize the steps they took. They came to a stop, and she smelled the burning of sage.
"Now, I have no idea if this will restore your full sight, or if it will work at all for that matter. Your wound is old, and healing it now will do no good. The scar is now part of you. All I can do is try to give you a second sight. Does that make sense?" he walked away and she heard him move some things.
"I believe so. You can't give me back what I lost, but you can give me something to replace it?"
"Correct. If I was a powerful mage, perhaps I could give you your sight back but that takes a great healer. And my study isn't in Restoration magic."
"What is it then?" she asked, trying to hold as still as possible, as to not bump anything.
"Alteration."
"Alteration?"
"Yes. I can manipulate the physical. Now I need you to hold still and close your eyes. I don't know how long this will take," he smeared a liquid over her eye lids. After a few moments Sorcline heard a whooshing sound and felt something wrapping itself around her. She was unsure how long she stood there but as time passed, pressure was slowly building in her skull and the pain was becoming too much. Without warning her mind went dark.
"Sorcline? Sorcline?!"
"Hmmm..." she slowly propped herself up. She kept her eyes closed, afraid to open them and ruin the process.
"Are you alright?" Danddal helped her to stand.
"I think so. Did it work?"
"I do not know. Try opening your eyes Sorcline," he instructed. She opened them and they stung at the first glimmer of light. Blinking repeatedly, they slowly adjusted and she could take in her surroundings. Shades of grey and all was foggy, as if everything was made of smoke. Nothing was in detail, simply outlines. Then she noticed that certain things shown blue, some darker than others. "What do you see?" the mage asked, crouching down to see her at eye level.
"It's as if everything is made of smoke, sir. Except somethings are blue, and you, sir, there is blue all around you," she answered. He got up and held his chin pensively. "What does it mean sir?"
"Sorcline, point out the things that are blue," he stood back so she may wander about the room. She began to point out objects: a staff, a folded robe, and a necklace. "Curious..."
"Sir?"
"It appears to me dear, that though I did not give you your sight back in detail that I have given you the ability to see magic. All these objects are enchanted. And I, myself, am a mage. You have an extraordinary gift, Sorcline."
Suddenly her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a man taking a seat at the table.
"Can I help you, stranger?" she looked at his face but saw nothing but a grey blurry outline.
"I haven't seen you before," he observed.
"Yes, well, I am simply passing through," she turned her face away. Often people would look at her glassy, pale blue eyes and figure out she was blind. This often lead to random fights on forest paths and berserk attacks behind buildings. But when you're blind, they don't think you can protect yourself and soon were surprised to see her duel magic.
"Perhaps you would like a companion with you on your journey, it can be dangerous out there," he turned to see where she was looking. The handle of a great sword stuck out from behind his back.
"You have my interest. What are your skills?" she sat back in her chair, hoping it would show confidence.
"Two handed and bow, but I'll fight with anything if necessary." His voice was deep and rough. She watched the outlines of his head and face, trying to place his race. He took a gulp from his glass.
"What's your fee?" she folded her arms over her chest.
"500 gold," he placed his mug of mead down. That would be most of her funds, but she had no idea what it would be like walking the roads alone. She had taken a carriage from Whiterun to Winterhold. She would have taken it farther, but the carriage drive wouldn't travel that far north and there was no other carriage available. On the ride here, the carriage driver told of horrible tales of lone travelers and their bitter ends. Probably his way of keeping business.
"Fine, we leave tomorrow morning at first light. I'll meet you down stairs in the entrance hall," she got up from her seat.
"Understood. I'm Stenvar, by the way," he took another drink.
"Sorcline."
"Nice to meet you Sorcline."
"Are you a Nord, by chance?" she asked, turning to leave.
"Yeah, can't you tell?"
"No, not really," she continued walking. The Nord gave a confused look before polishing off his mead.